


Beautiful Pain

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AND PURE, Brotp, Bulimia, Canon Divergence, Christophe is like five years older than Viktor, Eating Disorders, Gen, I'll be more specific later, IT'S VIKTOR NOT VICTOR, Otabek is cute, Probably ooc, Trigger Warnings, angsty, cause there isn't enough of these two, give him a hug, viktor is a smol bean, why do I like putting viktor through so much pain?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yakov wants Viktor to be perfect, but doesn't understand the lengths his young student will go to reach this impossible standard. Then, the very things Viktor uses to control himself start taking control of him, and his life starts spiralling downhill. Luckily, someone is watching out for him, someone who understands exactly what he is going through.





	

Viktor was fourteen the first time it happened. It had been his first big international competition. Yakov had told him to do a triple lutz in the last sequence, he’d tried to make it a quad, and it had turned into a single. Yakov had been furious. He’d squeezed the kid around the waist and told him to stop eating so much; that he needed to fly and at the moment skated like an elephant. The young skater sat through the scores, trying not to flinch as his coach grimaced at the lowest competition score Viktor had ever gotten.

 

He walked away, past the crowd, trying to hide the tears that were suddenly falling uncontrollably, sprinting the last few steps to the bathroom on shaky legs. He slammed a cubicle door closed behind him, before finally collapsing on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest as his body shook.

 

When his sobs eased off, he became aware of the fat around his stomach, on his thighs, the disgusting way it scrunched and bulged when he curled up like this. Yakov’s right, he thought, I’m fat. I’m huge. I’m like an elephant. 

 

Viktor pulled himself up so he was kneeling in front of the toilet. His hand shook as he slowly put one, then two fingers down his throat. The first time he felt his gag reflex kick in, he immediately retracted his hand, panting hard. The second time, his nerves coupled with the fingers at the back of his throat made him retch, then finally vomit everything in his stomach into the bowl. Once the vomiting started, there was no way to stop it. Every time Viktor thought he was done, he would be forced to lean back over the toilet as his body heaved. He vaguely registered a knock on the door, a deep voice asking if he was okay, before Christophe pushed the door open.

 

“Oh, Vik,” he started, kneeling beside the younger boy on the cold tile floor. Viktor half-heartedly pushed him away, but Christophe just pulled the skater into his arms, smoothing back his long silver hair that was matted with sweat.

 

Viktor curled himself into Chris’ warm body, and let his tears fall in earnest. If he had seen the older man’s face, he would see a depth in his eyes that showed he had faced this scene far too many times, but usually as the one kneeling by the toilet.

 

Chris felt unbelievably guilty. Part of him wanted to shake the boy, yell at him for doing this. Another part wanted to hold Viktor forever, to protect him. Yet another wished that this had not happened so that he could’ve thrown up his lunch as intended. It was almost ironic, this hypocrisy of comforting one who was seeking comfort through the same method he himself used.

 

He forced these thoughts to the back of his mind. Vik had gone limp against his chest, obviously exhausted, he needed a good sleep, then a serious conversation.

 

“Vik, can you stand up?” 

Viktor startled as Christophe’s voice broke the heavy silence. He nodded in response, and pulled himself up, leaning against the wall. See, everyone leaves you. You’re worthless, Chris is sick of you already!

 

Christophe put his hand gingerly on Viktor’s shoulder, as if worried he would be rejected. “You can come back to my room if you’d like, have a rest, some tea. I can call Yakov, get it all cleared?”

 

The younger skater was reluctant to go with Chris, especially when the blond man mentioned tea. How could he eat now? He was already so fat. The thought of putting more food in his body made his stomach turn. But the thought of struggling through a silent meal broken only by Yakov’s regular glares of disappointment was definitely the worse of the two options.

 

“Yeah, I’ll come with you. Just- please don’t tell Yakov about this.” He gestured to the toilet behind him, his voice weaker than he would’ve liked.

 

“I won’t, Viktor, of course I won’t. I think you should, though, but-”

 

“This was the first time,” Viktor cut in, “I didn’t even mean to, Chris, I was just so clumsy out there today and I’m so fat, I’ll never be a good skater when I’m so fat!”

 

“Come here, buddy,” Chris said gently, pulling the boy into his arms and hugging him tightly. “Nothing about you is even bordering on fat,” he murmured. “Let’s go to mine, you can rest there.”

 

Viktor allowed himself to be lead from the bathroom, down to the carpark, and into Christophe’s car. The radio was tuned to something classical, and the gentle tones of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ filled the car. He barely registered what was happening around him, he was extremely tired and his head was pounding. He heard Chris say he was going to stop at a gas station on their way to his room, but had forgotten it by the time the other man got back in the car and pressed a cold bottle of sparkling water into his hands.

 

“Just sip it, it’ll help settle your stomach and stop you getting dehydrated,” Viktor nodded his ascent, took a small mouthful of the water, then put the bottle in the cup holder and promptly fell asleep against the window.

 

Christophe reached across to grab the sleeping boy’s phone, which was sticking out of his pocket. It didn’t have a password, so he scrolled through Viktor’s contacts till he found Yakov’s number, and copied it to his own phone. He paused for a moment, undecided, before inputting his own number into Vik’s phone and replacing it in his pocket.

 

He had to try twice before Yakov picked up.

 

“‘Ello,” the coach answered.

“Hi, Yakov, it’s Chris. I’ve got Viktor with me, we’re just going to hang out at mine for a bit tonight,”

 

“He really should be back here, so I can keep an eye on him. He needs to train for tomorrow!” 

 

“I’ll drop him back in the morning then. I think he just needs some time out.”

 

“By nine, then,” the coach grumbled, hanging up.


End file.
